


post tenebras lux

by AgentJoanneMills



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: (by which i mean this happens within the canon timeline until S01E03), Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/F, Raelle Collar-centric, Raelle is dealing with A Lot™, Reckless Gay Bean and Death Gay Bean, Sex as a Coping Mechanism™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentJoanneMills/pseuds/AgentJoanneMills
Summary: Usually, Raelle can ignore all of it. It’s what she does, anyway: retreat into herself until the world stops being so loud, with everything happening all at once.But not today.Alternatively:Raelle is feeling restless. Scylla helps her deal with it.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 13
Kudos: 307
Collections: Gays in Fort Salem





	post tenebras lux

**Author's Note:**

> *Recognizable elements belong to their respective owners.  
> **Merely a work of fanfiction. No copyright infringement intended.  
> ***Title Latin for “After darkness, light.”

Raelle is just about vibrating out of her skin. It’s just not her day, full of stupid sergeants drilling them on stupid Seeds and manoeuvres, stupid classmates going on and on about their stupid duties. _We’re doing this to protect people,_ they keep saying, too blinded and too awed by fake praises and adulations to truly question the system that provides it.

There’s no glory in war, she knows. Battlefields are neither grand nor spectacular; they’re gritty and dirty and ruthless, and these wide-eyed cadets would die the moment they get in a fight if they don’t let go of their stupid idealism, and the instructors just keep feeding them with deception and promises they couldn’t hope to keep.

It’s all so terribly infuriating, and the frustration makes Raelle’s control tenuous, liable to break any second, and she keeps making silly mistakes during training. Anacostia’s steely reprimands and Abigail’s reproving gazes aren’t helping matters any, and she’s just about ready to snap if Tally makes another comment about keeping positive.

And then there’s the news. The Spree attacks are escalating, growing more dreadful with each passing day. They strike hard and fast, always leaving a trail of destruction in their wake that is just impossible to sweep under the rug. They’re making a statement, and they’re succeeding; even though Raelle doesn’t interact with the upper brass in Fort Salem, she can feel their agitation pressing onto her back, as their growing demands equate to mounting pressure on each cadet.

Usually, Raelle can ignore all of it. It’s what she does, anyway: retreat into herself until the world stops being so loud, with everything happening all at once.

But not today.

Today there’s something simmering beneath the surface, something that makes her fingers twitch. Her thoughts are teetering like discordant Seeds that just don’t make any sense. Her blood is roaring in her ears, clouding all judgement, and her mind is crackling like a thunderstorm.

She’s so restless she wants to scream.

She tries to burn out this frenetic energy by going for a lap around the grounds. Her lungs feel full and her heart’s beating fast out of exertion, but all hopes of running herself to exhaustion goes out the window because she’s gone on two laps now and she still isn’t tired. Not even close.

It makes her want to scream some more.

She’s on her third lap when she catches sight of something moving on a fifth-story window and her mind grinds to a halt.

_Scylla._

And then she’s sprinting ever faster, heedless of the cadets scrambling to get out of her way. Her legs seem to have come to a decision on their own as they lead her up endless staircases and along a quiet hallway. She’s barely even skidded to a stop when she’s knocking on the door, and she hardly dares to breathe as a soft voice calls, _Wait_.

The door opens, and then she’s looking at Scylla’s beautiful face, and the simmer she’s been feeling finally comes to a boil.

“Hey, Ra—” Scylla starts before her words are rudely cut off as Raelle pushes in, the door banging shut behind her.

Raelle’s lips immediately lock on Scylla’s, her fevered hands coming up to the base of Scylla’s neck and on her waist. She kisses Scylla hard, and Scylla whimpers at the force, and Raelle wants to pull that sound from Scylla’s throat and listen to it again and again. Scylla’s hands are grasping Raelle’s shoulders, trying to pace her, though it is to no avail. Raelle is unrelenting, because why would she slow down when _Scylla is right there_?

And so she continues her onslaught and there’s a broken whine from Scylla’s mouth, and Raelle keens into her as slender fingers tangle in Raelle’s hair, nails lightly scratching at Raelle’s scalp. Raelle ducks down and presses open kisses on Scylla’s neck, and Scylla lets out a hungry groan that sparks satisfaction down Raelle’s spine. Her arms band around Scylla, pushing them ever closer, and the proximity helps quell the harsh roar of her blood into a dull rumble.

But there’s still hunger growing at the pit of her stomach, and it’s so _maddening_ ; she wants to clamber right into Scylla and drink everything that she is. She rakes her teeth against the base of Scylla’s neck and she growls when Scylla’s content sigh melts into an indecent moan. It’s one of Raelle’s most favourite sounds in the whole world, and every time they do this she just becomes more and more addicted to it.

Scylla tugs at her hair, urging her up, and Raelle lets her. She stares directly into Scylla’s eyes, the deep blues now nearly swallowed by black.

They reflect the hunger Raelle feels.

Scylla’s lips are wet and swollen, and Raelle is helpless to lean in and taste them again, her tongue flicking out as if to soothe. But it only manages to stoke the fire hotter for Scylla inhales breathlessly before surging into her, each kiss deeper than the last until they’re both shivering. Raelle’s fingers flex on Scylla’s hips as she carefully sways them towards the bed.

The back of Scylla’s knees hit the bed, and Raelle scoops her up to tenderly deposit her on it. Scylla yanks her shirt over her head before lying down properly, and Raelle crawls over her, settles between Scylla’s legs. Scylla looks up at her with _those_ eyes, and she’s so _ethereal_ that it _hurts_.

She reaches out, cups Scylla’s cheek, and her chest is fit to burst when Scylla leans into the contact. Her gaze is so magnetic and Raelle has never been able to resist its pull.

From the moment they met, Raelle has known that Scylla is a force of nature, not to be denied, and Raelle is only all too willing to fall on her knees. If the goddess had a mortal form she would be Scylla, and Raelle would gladly spend the rest of her life serving at her altar, to adore her and worship her.

Scylla smiles, and Raelle kisses her again, and the energy buzzing beneath her skin all day rises up and becomes an inferno.

There’s something intoxicating in Scylla’s lips, and Raelle wants to chase the flavour; her tongue dips into Scylla’s mouth and their hips cant closer together, and she can taste Scylla’s whimper. It’s exhilarating—the thought that Raelle can affect someone like Scylla like this, that she’s so soft and pliant under Raelle’s touch. It makes her feel powerful, strong enough to take down an entire battalion. 

She trails open-mouthed kisses on every inch of skin she can reach, feeling the way Scylla clenches at every breath. 

“Raelle.” Scylla breathes her name, shifting beneath her, wanting to be closer. Raelle presses down harder, delighted when Scylla gasps. The fire Raelle feels blazes and she sinks into Scylla, relishing how Scylla tilts her head to accommodate her, drawing her deeper. Scylla’s hands slide under her shirt, scorching her skin.

She wants to devour Scylla, and devour her she will. If the fires were to consume her, Raelle wants the last taste on her tongue to be Scylla’s exhalations, the last sound she hears her ragged whispers.

Her fingers skate over pale skin and Raelle thinks this is how it feels to touch the moonlight.

Scylla bucks against her touch and Raelle thinks this is how it feels to be blessed by the divine.

Raelle tugs Scylla’s pants down, intent on completely taking it off, but she doesn’t get that far. Distraction is always a thing she has to contend with, whenever Scylla’s in the vicinity, and that becomes even worse when they’re as close as this.

Or maybe that becomes _better_ , as Raelle presses two fingers down on the damp cloth covering Scylla, and Scylla opens up for her like a heavenly feast. She shifts until she’s sinking into wet warmth, her fingers dancing in small tight circles, and the only rhythm she hears are Scylla’s wanton sighs. Raelle feels drunk on mead and _Scylla_ and she’s sure she’s looking at her in unrestrained awe, and that’s okay, because watching Scylla come undone is like seeing the universe explode and come _alive_.

When Raelle retracts her hand, Scylla stops her with a touch on her wrist, and then Scylla is sucking on her fingers as her ever-watchful eyes pin Raelle in place. Raelle swallows as she feels Scylla swirling her tongue, tasting herself on Raelle’s fingers, her eyes glinting like sapphire in the dark. She releases her fingers with a wet pop, and Raelle would have buckled were she not already on her knees.

She settles for charting stars across Scylla’s chest with frenzied lips, wanting as much of her in her mouth as possible. She can get lost just tasting Scylla’s skin, murmuring words of reverence and veneration, tattooing her vows in heated breaths. Scylla’s moans come sharp and broken, and her lips form around a soundless scream when Raelle urges her thighs further apart and lays a flat, broad lick at her wet centre. One hand tangles in Raelle’s hair, whilst the other has her sheets in a white-knuckled grip. Her hips are moving almost thoughtlessly, her thighs clamping around Raelle’s head, and there’s no place Raelle would rather be than here, worshipping her goddess as she cries Raelle’s name.

She feels the world split open when Scylla comes against her mouth, and she greedily drinks her in as if a parched wanderer.

Then everything is silent for the first time since this morning, and Raelle can finally breathe again.

She rests her forehead on Scylla’s hip, feeling the world settle and calm down around her. The darkness lurking like a hurricane in her mind gives way to light. Scylla’s fingers thread through Raelle’s hair, and Raelle hums happily at the sensation.

“What was that?” Scylla asks, after countless seconds, and her voice is thick and husky in a way that sends Raelle’s heart racing again.

Raelle turns so that her cheek is pressed against Scylla’s thigh, her gaze meeting Scylla’s across an expanse of flawless skin. “Just missed you.”

A perfect eyebrow raises in challenge, but Scylla’s smile is gentle. “I see.”

Raelle grins, basks in the calm Scylla brings, in her quiet care and affection.

The world can wait.

For now, Scylla is here, with her.

And that’s all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> You can talk to me about this ship on [Tumblr](http://agentjoannemills.tumblr.com/ask) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/agentjoannemil1).  
> Feedback is much appreciated; feelings fuel everything. :))


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